The Night Had Never Seemed So Soft
by SilkWrappedMoth
Summary: Hogwarts is finished and Rose Weasley is finding it difficult to cope with the thought of moving on. Then, as she sits in a tree in the middle of the night, she is abruptly faced with a difficult choice: Admit her insecurities and fears to the boy she cares for most, or let him leave?
The night was black and I took in its velvety texture and varying shades from my parents' orchard, resting high up in the branches of a silvery tree. What type of fruit it bore was a mystery to me–my family enjoyed tinkering with spells and Muggle plants. The solidness of its trunk, however, was reassuring, and I leaned further back. Nighttime was my domain. I loved the silence that wasn't really silence but a thousand tiny sounds, the darkness that was really a magnificent spectrum of deep, star-tinged violet. I loved the subtleties of scent carried on faint stirrings of breeze, the slumbering grass and the touch of summer roses– roses that my parents named me for.

But most of all I loved the softness. The night pressed in from all sides until I felt warmly enveloped, caressed, and insubstantial. Floating high above the ground in my arboreal perch, I was just another night spirit, a tiny dot helping to paint this lovely, lovely moment. My eyelashes found each other and I simply existed. Far off, a dove called.

"Ahem. Weasley."

The clearing of a throat caused my eyes to fly open and I nearly toppled from my branch. Righting myself, I hissed into the night, "Malfoy, go away."

"Not likely. Budge up."

The voice I had thought came from the ground suddenly sounded much nearer and I felt the aforementioned Malfoy's fingers prodding my shoulder. "Go on. Make room."

Narrowly avoiding falling by flailing toward another branch and securing a new handhold, I glared with all my considerable ferocity toward the whitish hair that broke my vision. "I hate you. What are you doing here?" I wished I hadn't left my wand inside the house. Who'd have thought my cousin's idiot friend would have found me out here, though? I entirely rejected the fact that he was my friend as well. I was not in the mood.

He only chuckled and settled himself comfortably. "It's nice out here, Weasley. I do congratulate you on this find."

Red tinged my vision. "This is _my spot_. I came out here to be _alone_." Even I could hear the whininess in my tone that caused him to chuckle again.

For a while there was silence between us. I began to relax slowly, finding my former position against the thick tree trunk and allowing the quiet to overtake my mind. I really didn't want to think, not now. As my eyes closed again and I let all emotion wash away, Scorpius' voice sounded again, much quieter this time, the tone more thoughtful. "I told my father about the dragons."

I was torn between displeasure at his choice of topic and relief that it was being aired at long last. We'd been avoiding talking about our imminent post-Hogwarts lives, silently preparing to go our separate ways. The knowledge lay heavy over all our awkward conversations, our stilted words and gestures.

My outward demeanor remained surly and I merely grunted.

"He wasn't happy," Scorpius continued. "He thinks it'll be dangerous, and we don't need the gold." He paused, then laughed. "He offered me a position in the Ministry."

I laughed too, and the tension lessened. Scoupius' grin ghosted at me out of the darkness.

"Your father is full of himself," I said.

Scorpius agreed readily. Draco Malfoy had no business offering positions without consulting his appropriate superiors.

"Still can't believe he ran for Minister last year," I added, snickering at a long-standing source of amusement between us.

Scorpius didn't reply, and after a few moments, I poked his ribs. "You still there?"

In reply, he shifted his weight toward me, stretching his leg out. The motion brought our arms into contact with each other, and I felt his skin against mine, warm and raising goosebumps against the night air. I pretended to study the landscape, keeping my eyes firmly trained on the distant forest behind my childhood home. The trees were blurry shapes, not offering much in the form of distraction. I thought I could hear an owl somewhere and concentrated on the sound.

I felt the heat of his hand before it touched my face. "Rose, look at me." He'd been my closest friend for nearly seven years, but the gesture felt strangely intimate under the cover of darkness, ten feet off the ground, freed from the bounds of our Hogwarts reality. Though we'd met up every summer since First Year, this was the first time we'd known we wouldn't be seeing each other again in a few weeks, and it felt strange. Without the shared future, it was as if our tight friendship had been snipped open and left exposed to a vast, barren world, terrifying and blinding.

I refused to turn my head. Scorpius would be happy, he was going to work with dragons, and I'd be just fine brewing for the apothecary. My chest felt constricted. I kept my eyes solidly on the trees.

"Rose, it's going to be fine." His voice was quiet, calm. He didn't sound anxious. His voice certainly wasn't stuck somewhere in his throat, as mine seemed to feel. Of course not. Dragons. Wonder. Adventure.

"Rose. Rose." The wind whipped my hair into my face for a brief moment and I squinted.

Finally, I steeled myself and took his hand, turning to smile brightly. "I know, Scorp. Of course it'll be fine. Dunno what you're talking about."

I hadn't been prepared for the way his eyes were trained on me when I met them, serious and intent. They seemed to see into my very essence, my deepest secrets and thoughts all laid bare, innermost feelings and fears suddenly passed to him as though through a gauzy veil. His eyes were grey, and charged as though with the stillness of a poised dancer. I felt frozen, unable to look away. It was as though nothing I'd ever experienced was as real as this moment. His lips moved, but no sound came out. We were suspended, and those eyes, those _eyes_ , bored into my soul.

And then I thought he was suddenly, and yet so gradually, closer to my face than he had been. And I was horribly aware of my painfully beating heart. This was ridiculous. We were friends... I leaned away under the pretense of looking for the source of a minuscule night noise. Apparently not finding it, I gave my body a little shake.

"Well, Scorpius, I'm a little tired, I'll see you tomo–"

His hand pulled me around as I tried to twist my body to climb from the tree. He didn't speak for what seemed an eternity and I pointedly ignored his gripping fingers, waiting for them to unwrap… He had to clear his throat before he could speak.

"Let's talk, Rose."

"We're talking." My voice, which I had intended to sound offhand, squeaked at the end, and I closed my eyes in embarrassment. Scorpius didn't comment, but instead shifted his body again, this time slightly further away from me. I knew he was sizing me up, weighing his words.

"This feels so weird, I dunno what's wrong, we're just done with school, that's all, it's not like we're never going to see each other again, and Al's going to be around, he'd never let us rest, and–" My mouth babbled uncontrollably. I slammed my head back against the trunk. Why couldn't we just talk, why was this so forced, why–

"It feels strange to _me_ ," said Scorpius, enunciating each word carefully while still keeping his eyes trained on mine, "because I can't stand the thought of not seeing you every day."

I let out a strangled sound while peering upward into the tree.

"Rose, come with me." These words were whispered, barely audible as a breeze rustled the branches above us. "I can't stand it. Come with me."

And I didn't know what to say, I couldn't speak, because this was so, so much further than we'd ever gone in expressing how important our friendship was to either of us…

And impossibly, I thought he was leaning forward again. Before I could react, his motion (was it motion?) had stopped, and I could feel his breath on my face, faint and vaguely warm. My eyes darted between both of his, searching, terrified. He looked at me with the intensity that our House-mates teased him for, and teachers commended. That concentration, turned entirely on me, blocked out all other sound, all other smell, any hint of light beyond that which dimly illuminated his sharp features. And he was another inch closer. I was frozen.

My nose would touch his if I moved just a hair.

Fear held me rooted in place, but the tension and his dark, serious eyes–so grey– were blocking out any further thought, and then I felt his lips just barely brush against mine, a whisper of touch, and I leapt back. My arms flailed for balance and I grabbed his shirt and another branch simultaneously, sending us lurching toward the trunk and each other. By some miracle, we remained in the tree.

I didn't know what to say, and Scorpius was suddenly very preoccupied by his hand, which had sustained a small scrape in the scuffle. His expression was carefully controlled.

I knew he would go forth from here unchanged and our friendship would remain intact if I said nothing. There would be no sense of betrayal or disgust. Our trust was too great, too tried over seven long years.

And yet, the crushing weight I had felt over this summer was still there, a stifling agitation and terror at the looming, lonely future. And it was not just fear of separation, it was dread of our finding other people to take that spot of ultimate importance, held by each other for so long. We _belonged_ to each other.

Over the course of our friendship, Scorpius had dated half the girls in our year, and then some. I'd kissed one person, ever, and couldn't bring myself to face his possible judgement, his comparatively vast wealth of experience. That moment of humiliation, if he drew back in distaste or disappointment, would destroy me.

Scorpius sighed finally. "I've liked you for so long, Rosie. I can't talk to anyone like I do with you. You're– you're just so fucking special. I don't think I'll ever meet another person who's so easy to be with, or so perfect."

I laughed quietly, despite my hammering heartbeat. "Scorpius, half our conversations involve yelling and possible death threats."

His grin was contagious. "Can you honestly say you can fight that way with anyone else? We fight _because_ we know that it'll be alright at the end of the day. That you'll hex my ass if I don't come back to the Common Room by midnight, and you'll look like an ancient old lady for the whole of Potions class if you try to ignore me at breakfast one more time, and that's _ok_. And if Filch catches either of us out-of-bounds, we're _both_ in detention the next day, and we didn't both have to be Prefects to give Rosier hell when he was Head Boy, and, Rosie, I even became friends with _Albus_ for you, and now I _like_ Albus–"

I couldn't help but smirk. I, too, remembered the days when Albus and Scorpius had been arch-enemies. I remembered, too, the Potions class when I had to shuffle in stooped with apparent age, white hair fluttering and falling out, our many shared detentions. "We're best friends, Scorpius. We always will be."

Even if he was moving to Romania and I was staying to work in Diagon Alley.

"Is that all we are, Rose?"

I would never be able to match his matter-of-fact tone, the straight-forward frankness with which he spoke.

"You're incredibly beautiful. I'd be a liar if I said I'm not attracted to you. Your eyes, your hair– you're amazing. And I honestly don't care for _anyone_ the way I do for you."

And yet my smile was easy, like it always was with him. "You're attracted to anything remotely female, Socrpius." Before he could protest, I said, "And you're right. You're the most important person to me, too. I wish you weren't leaving, but I know you're going to have an amazing time, you bloody bastard."

He wouldn't be distracted. "Can you honestly say you haven't thought about this?" The intense look was back.

He would know if I lied, so I looked away. I knew he was fighting hard because we'd avoided this topic for years, and this would probably be our last opportunity. This night, this darkness– it was ours, as other times may not be again. Things were _changing_ after this.

"What are you afraid of? Why won't you just _try_ with me? Just try, that's all I ask." When I didn't respond, he took my face in his hand. While not rough, his grip was not gentle. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll never bring it up again."

Despite myself, I felt my eyes closed as I breathed deeply.

"Tell me and we'll go back to how we've always been."

Could I stand that? Was it even possible, when the inevitable day came that we put others–girlfriends, husbands, life partners–first? And I _had_ thought about it. I had secretly despised each and every girl he'd casually flirted with, the way they draped themselves about his figure, his thoughtless hands on their waists, the languid yet indomitable way his mouth had kissed them while I rolled my eyes and chatted with Albus.

Yet the thought of that mouth on _mine_ caused shudders of fear to tingle down my spine. I couldn't answer, either way, and didn't open my eyes.

Scorpius's words whispered against my ear. "Kiss me."

I shook my head rapidly, a faint noise catching in my throat.

He didn't move, and his breath was in my ear, hot against the suddenly cool night. "Why not?"

Was the only thing holding me back a fear of his laughter at my kissing ability, or did I worry he'd see me differently, our solid, dynamic relationship reduced to one of his lighthearted flings? Could I really be afraid that he'd lose interest in our closeness with the accomplishment of such a silly thing–that a simple kiss could shift seven years' worth of memories and bonds?

"Scorpius Malfoy, I will kill you if you turn me into one of your pathetic harlots."

He pulled back as though slapped, staring at me in disbelief. "Is that what you think?" he demanded. "That, what, I'm needy? Two months away from school and a ready supply of willing girls has made me desperate for a quick shag?" He was angry now. "Didn't I just tell you that you're the _most important person to me_?"

"No– I didn't mean– Scorpius–"

His nostrils were flared, eyes narrowed. He looked out at the surrounding forest, then without a word turned and made to climb back down the tree.

"Wait!" I pulled him around. "You said you wanted to talk!"

He paused, but did not move back, one foot already extended down toward the next branch. When he spoke, his words were carefully measured, contrasting with my frantic tumble. "I said I wanted to talk because I assumed you and I were on the same page. That, perhaps, you felt the same way I did, and if not, that at least you respected our friendship enough to want to preserve it, and talk about our futures. I apologize for getting carried away. It won't happen again." And he began to move down toward the earth once more.

"Malfoy, stop it! Stop–" I yanked his arm hard. "Get _back_ here!" When he ignored me, I was forced to jump down after him, thanking my years of sudden drops on the Quidditch pitch, and leaping into the darkness after the flash of white-blonde hair walking stiffly back toward the house. I all but tackled him.

"You git, stop _walking_! We're not finished!"

It took a sharp kick to the shins to finally halt his progress, and then he glared all the more fiercely. His face was composed, as it always was when he felt unsettled, but I could see the corner of his lip twitching. I had kicked slightly harder than I intended, stumbling on a rock just before landing the blow. "Rose, let me go to bed…"

"We're not _finished_. You're purposely misunderstanding everything."

"Really?" he shot back. "You think I'm looking for a quick fling with one of my best friends, that I've apparently been trying to get into your pants rather than spilling my guts to you up in a tree. What for?" he said bitterly. "Do you think I had a bet going, sleep with Rose Weasley and win a new cauldron? A endless supply of butterbeer? What do you think would possibly make this worth it?"

"I didn't– I don't–" My words were halting. "I know you weren't trying to get into my pants," I said awkwardly. "It's just– you _have_ with about half of Hogwarts…"

"I didn't know that bothered you so much," he said coldly, arms folded.

"Scorpius, how couldn't it?" I cried at last, waving my own arms in supplication. "I've watched you pull moves like that, whispering in people's ears, leaning right up near their faces, the whole bit– I know it's meaningless to you– It's _hurtful_ to think that's what you've been thinking of me for Merlin knows how long–"

"I am in love with you," Scorpius said clearly. "I'm sorry you think you're just another bit of ass to me, Weasley. I can't tell you how sorry I am to have given you that impression. Now I am going to _bed_."

I kicked him again. "Scorpius Malfoy, you do not get to say that and then go to bed."

He pushed a hand over his face, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "What do you want, Rose."

I did not come from a line of Gryffindors for nothing. If I did not speak now, the future led down a single straight path. I disliked that path. If I spoke, and spoke truly, a multitude of terrifying possibilities opened up, but in that multitude lay the windiest, most difficult, and dearest path– one that I could not leave untrod. I took a deep breath.

"I'm scared," I admitted. "I think you've been more important to me than I could admit for a very long time."

I found that now the words had taken hold, I could not stop them. I stared at the ground as I spoke.

"You're wild in a way that I'm not. You love people, and they love you back. I have my friends, but other people aren't as _easy_ for me to navigate as you seem to find them… Scorpius, I don't think there's a girl above Third Year at Hogwarts who hasn't fantasized about being with you… And you're just so dear to me, I can't bear to have you change your mind, cast me aside, and I know you think you wouldn't, but it's practically _habit_ to you, and–and–"

I felt on the verge of tears.

"Rose?"

My tears annoyed me and I pushed them back through a huge effort of will, distracting myself with rapid counting until they were under control again. I forced myself to grin and stuck out my tongue.

"You've kissed practically every girl I know," I joked, inspecting my fingernail. "And done Merlin knows what else with them–"

Scorpius's hands were suddenly holding mine very tightly and he stepped closer. Though I'd tried to speak light-heartedly, I knew he'd seen through the ruse instantly.

"Rose." His voice was coarse, strained. "Is that what you've been worried about this entire time? That you're not a good _kisser_? That I'd judge you– what, Merlin, I somehow wouldn't enjoy every second that you were near me, no matter what you– Fuck, Rosie, you could kiss like the Giant Squid and have hands like a Blast-Ended Skrewt's and I think I'd probably still–" He was incoherent, spluttering with outrage. "And you've kissed MacMillan, don't try to deny it–"

"One person, Scorpius, _one person_ , that hardly qualifies me–"

"Rosie, I'm warning you–"

"You asked me! You _asked_ –"

With a growl, he closed the remaining distance between us and his mouth was suddenly on mine, aggressive and hard. "I–" he kissed me, "love–" another kiss, " _you_ –" and then his lips gentled and slowed. He kissed me firmly but caressingly, with a tenderness I had never witnessed in him. I responded automatically, heat rising between us as his hands moved to my waist and mine found his face.

Had I really worried…?

My thoughts receded into the background as the blood sang through my veins. The world disappeared and there was only Scorpius Malfoy and the impossibility–and yet complete naturalness–of the two of us twined together in a summery midnight orchard.

The night had never seemed so soft.

An age later, or perhaps it was only minutes, he seemed to recall himself and pulled back to look at me, leaning his forehead against against mine. "That was the best kiss I've ever had," he said simply.

Because I'd seen him kiss dozens of other girls with nothing but smirking nonchalance, because his eyes looked curiously vulnerable, and because I could feel his hands, still touching me, shaking very slightly, I believed him.

I echoed his words from earlier. "It'll be fine."

And suddenly those two grey, wire-brilliant eyes were dancing. "Of course, that was probably just beginner's luck–"

My earlier worries evaporating, I kicked him soundly and scrunched my nose up. "Alright, Malfoy, guess it must've just been a one-time experiment…"

I twisted away from his grabbing hands and, laughing, were tumbled the the earth.


End file.
